


You do what you must (and it turns me on)

by Daughter_of_Scotland



Series: Steter Short Stories [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Death of OC, M/M, Mating bites are mentiones, Murder Boyfriends (kind of), Steter Secret Santa, Stiles is Giles, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_Scotland/pseuds/Daughter_of_Scotland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wasn't kind. He knew that to be safe, you sometimes had to go the hard way. As does Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You do what you must (and it turns me on)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jfar09](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jfar09).



> My first try at the Murder Boyfriends Trope. Hope you like it!
> 
> Steter Secret Santa for [jfar09](http://jfar09.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks to [B](http://tomrun.tumblr.com/) for betareading :)

The first time Stiles killed someone, it wasn't even a human.  
It's a medusa-like monster which had terrorised Beacon Hills for two weeks before the pack managed to track it down. Stiles had found a way to kill it, involving a lot of mountain ash. With Lydia away to scout Colleges, he was the only one left to deal the killing blow.  
Still, he was surprised that his hands hadn't shaken, that he hadn't hesitated, that he hadn't felt nauseated after it was done.  
The pack had started to clean up right away, leaving Stiles to gather his ingredients in silence.  
  
It was now two days later and no one had asked Stiles if he was alright. Which he was not.  
He didn't feel remorse or guilt over the creature's death, only a sense of accomplishment.  
He was ready to do it again.

 

There weren't many people Stiles loved like he loved Scott. Scott was his brother in all but blood, Stiles trusted him with his life, and, even more important, with his dad's life.  
But Scott was also very kind. So kind, he just couldn't kill even the worst threats in Beacon Hills.  
Stiles wasn't kind. He knew that to be safe, you sometimes had to go the hard way. One night he watched a re-run of Buffy and realized that he was Giles - the researcher in the background, ready to kill when his Slayer, his Alpha, wouldn't.

  
  
Which is how he ended up deep in the preserve, elbow-deep in the body of a Dryad. She was the Dryad of one of the trees closest to the Nemeton. She'd been driven mad by the proximity and had started to attack the town.  
Scott had tried to reason with her, and in the end managed to convince her to leave Beacon Hills. Stiles couldn't believe it. So he followed the Dryad, and after realizing she wasn't intending to leave after all, he had killed her.  
He hadn't even thought about it; he'd just started beating her with his baseball bat, which by now had runes of strength and protections etched into it, until she stopped moving. Then he'd cut her open so he could remove her heart which tied her to her tree.

„Well, what do we have here?”

Stiles let out a yell and looked up, directly into Peter’s eyes. He could feel himself pale. “I… Peter…”

The older man kneeled down across from him and looked at the body. “Don’t worry, Stiles, I won’t tell,” he assured the human. “I was on my way to do exactly this – take care of the problem. Seems like you beat me to it.” He looked up and smiled at Stiles. “Good work.”

The colour slowly returned to Stiles’ face. “Well, you would like it,” he muttered as he finally ripped out her heart. “Might not be bloody enough for you though. Dryads don’t really bleed.”

Peter laughed softly and took the heart from him, putting it into the little hole Stiles had already dug. “True,” he agreed without shame. “But it’s still good to see you working hard.” With that he set the heart on fire and they both watched it burn to ashes.

 

An hour later, Stiles walked out of Peter’s bathroom, clad in the clothes he always kept in his jeep for emergencies, and into the living room.

“Thanks,” he told Peter, who sat on the couch and nodded at him over his book.

“You’re welcome,” he said and looked up quickly, before concentrating back on his reading. “I imagine you needed desperately to get clean. Death has that effect on people.”

Stiles looked around the room instead of answering. “So you really don’t live in a cave,” he joked, trying to read the titles of some of the books on the shelves. He could practically hear Peter’s eyeroll.

“Of course not. Caves have terrible reading light.”

Stiles laughed despite himself and shook his head. “Damn. I really want to keep hating you, but then you go and be funny. You’re such a little shit.”

Peter closed his book. “Why do you want to keep hating me,” he asked. “I mean it,” he added at Stiles’ disbelieving look. “I know I did terrible things. Things I can explain, and others I will never be able to apologise enough for. But now I’m an asset. Part of the pack. Isn’t hating me counterproductive?”

Stiles snorted and held up a hand. “One, you’re not part of the pack. Scott is our Alpha and he hasn’t accepted you yet, I know that for a fact. Two, nice going with the self-evaluation. Three…” He stopped and thought about it. “I just feel better hating you, I guess.” He shrugged. “You did terrible things, as you said. You changed my life – all of our lives – forever. You biting Scott was the beginning of it all.”

Peter lifted an eyebrow. “And why was Scott in the woods in the first place?”

Stiles stopped cold. He stared at Peter for a second and then flushed. “Fuck you,” he choked out. “You have no right to blame me for that!”

“But you blame yourself for it,” Peter returned instantly. “That’s why you do this. You could have turned away when you realized how dangerous the supernatural world really is. But you didn’t. You stay, you fight, you try to keep up – but you can’t. And you know it. So you decided you’re going to do what Scott can’t. What he _won’t_ do. And you do it all because you still feel guilty.”

Stiles continued to stare at Peter during his whole speech. He didn’t move when the werewolf stood up and walked up to him, invading his space.

“Am I wrong?” Peter asked quietly and put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

As if the touch severed the final tether of Stiles’ self-control, he crumbled into Peter’s arm and burst into tears.

 

By the time Stiles had calmed himself down, they were sitting on the couch, Peter’s arm around Stiles’ shoulder, pulling him into his chest. His shirt clung to his skin, wet with his tears, but he didn’t complain.

“Feel better?” he asked when Stiles stopped sobbing. “Seems like you really needed that.”

Stiles moved away from Peter, the red on his cheek deepening in embarrassment. “Let’s just… not talk about this, ever. Okay?”

Peter laughed softly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You seem to need to talk about a lot of things but never do. You can talk to me, Stiles. I’m not going to judge you.”

Stiles swallowed. “It’s just… I know it’s my fault. Everything. Everyone died because I took Scott out into the woods that night. If I hadn’t…”

“I would still have killed a lot of people,” Peter interrupted him. “Maybe even Derek. Maybe even the rest of the Argents, or innocent citizens. Deucalion and Jennifer would still have come here. The Nogitsune might have been released another way.” He turned them around so he could look Stiles in the eyes. “Yes, you are responsible for Scott getting bitten. But it’s not all bad, never was. Terrible things happened but they are not all your fault. And you’re doing your best to control the situation now. You’re doing what you are best at: Research and cleaning up messes.”

Stiles couldn’t look away from Peter, the honesty in his eyes. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered. “Why are you helping me like this?”

Peter slowly reached out and took Stiles’ wrist in his hand, leading it to his face. “I told you, Stiles,” he answered, his eyes never leaving Stiles’. His breath was warm against Stiles’ skin. “I like you.”

Stiles shuddered at the kiss the older man placed right on his pulse, finally breaking eye contact by closing his eyes. “You weren’t going to turn me into a werewolf that day, were you?”

Peter smiled against his skin. “Well, I had thought about it,” he confessed. “But I was talking about another bite, that’s correct.” He looked at Stiles again. “Still not interested? I don’t need to be an Alpha for that, you know.”

Stiles grinned and pulled his arm away slowly. Peter let him go without resistance. “Not so fast,” he answered. “How about you take me to dinner first?”

Peter’s smile widened. “Sounds like a good idea. Killing always makes me hungry, too.”

Stiles laughed loudly, only quieting down when Peter got enough and kissed him silent.

 


End file.
